The plane lands, and we hear over the loudspeaker that this will not be a terminal landing, that we will be driven there from the runway. Looking out the window, at the rather large amount of rain, it seemed a good idea to put on some of those layers I had packed, especially my gore-tex jacket. We wait patiently as everyone disembarks, and end up at the start of the line for the second trolley to the terminal.
As I wait, it still oddly feels like home. I know consciously that I just witnessed us flying over while new countryside, roads I had never seen, towns and lights wholly unfamiliar. But staring out into the rain, it's still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I just traveled about 8 hours across the globe.
The trolley comes, and my first step off the plane is greeted with a very physical cue that this ain't home. Iceland's air slaps me in the face with roaring, frigid gusts that make me more than glad I put those extra layers on.
At the terminal, we follow the helpful "Arrival" signs, trying our hand at pronouncing the Icelandic language equivalents. We are mostly unsuccessful but thanks to Ashlen's foreknowledge have at least three words at our disposal: "takk" for "thanks", "já" (pronounced "yow") for "yes", and "nei" for "no".
The much-anticipated passport stamping takes almost no time. It in fact takes longer to get through the line than it does to get my passport stamped. I feel surprised and oddly let down that I didn't even get asked "business or pleasure?" like in the movies.
After having barely anything to eat on the plane, and being around 7am (and body feeling like it was midnight), Ashlen and I decide that it's past time to try out Icelandic cuisine. The only thing truly available though were various baguettes, salads, pizza, and coffee. We opt for the baguettes and coffee.
The prices are already slightly surprising, though I assume this is just due to it being airport food. I am later proved wrong. It's also already an adjustment seeing prices for things starting at 100, even though we quickly discover that 116 ISK (krona) is equal to $1. But coffee, even the most basic, is $4-5, and anything substantial food-wise is at least $9-10.
A quick check-in via Skype to friends and family let them know we're here safe, and then we're off to catch a shuttle into Reykjavik. As we step outside, somehow the wind has gotten even more blustery, and we try to peer through the pelting train to find our "Flybus". We look...and look...but all we can see are taxis, private rental vans, and giant tour buses...no flybus.
We had back inside and thankfully quickly discover that the "Reykjavik Excursions" tour buses we had seen outside were actually the same company as flybus, and we didn't even have to wait in the now very large line in order to board as we had preordered tickets. We deposit our bags, and take the only two seats next to each other that were left...right at the front. 50 minutes to Reykjavik.
We originally thought about using the time to rest or sleep but I simply can't. I am glued to the window, marveling at the large swaths of grassland and plains with rugged mountains in the distance, getting curiouser and curiouser at each strange turnout of the road that seemed to lead nowhere but to a picnic table, oohing and aahing at all the moss covered cairns and lava fields and wondering..."Where are the trees?"
We arrive at the BSI bus terminal, knowing it is about a 45 minute walk to our airbnb. There was an option to get dropped off 5 minutes away from it at a hostel for about $15 more, but I thought, oh what the hell, let's walk out and see the city! Plus we had several hours yet until we could check in and well how else should we pass the time?
10 minutes in and I'm already realizing I packed too much. A larger bag with clothes plus a day bag full of other items is too much. Nonetheless I decide to have some fun and record part of a walking tour video that we talked about having as a reward for a certain level of donation to our gofundme campaign.
As we're walking, we pass a salon, obviously just open from the way the owner is sweeping. I had meant to get a haircut before we left but ran out of time, so this just seemed too perfect. What better way to start this adventure into the new than with a new haircut?
I walk in and ask if he speaks English, a question I will eventually realize is wholly unnecessary as EVERYONE speaks English. He says yes, I say how much for a haircut, he says 4.999 ISK (note: the period and comma are reversed in Iceland for dollar amounts. $4,321.23=4.321,23ISK). I say okay, he says sit down over there, and another gentleman steps out of the back and proceeds to cut off far more hair than I told him to, but I'm okay with it as I think it looks pretty good while also having a slightly European flair to it.
Meanwhile the owner has been talking with Ashlen, sharing suggestions about where to go and showing her these stunning pictures he had taken on his phone from some smaller villages to the north. We both thank them, "takk!", and are on our way.
The weather has quieted down now, with the wind still raging as we get closer to the water, but there's no rain and even a glimpse of sunlight through the clouds. We go to the water to enjoy the view of a long stretch of mountain that seems just a quick ferry ride away. A couple of statues also greet us, including one shaped like a Viking ship that turns out to of course be one of the more popular attractions for tourists.
Venturing into downtown (which consists mostly of two main streets running practically the length of the city) we duck into an old bookstore in search of a bathroom and revel in the bonus of that comforting old book smell. He gives us a recommendation for a coffeeshop on the corner which we quickly run over to in order to stay awake enough until we can check in to the airbnb.
It is here that I have a life-changing chai latte, and a "breakfast sandwich" which, instead of being what I thought it would be, was instead closer to an egg salad sandwich with some bacon spiced differently than anything I had ever tasted. I would later realize that this would be some of the only bacon I would have here, as a package of bacon at the supermarket runs at about a $17 minimum.
We finally get in touch with our host who tells us it's okay to come over to the house, and if she's not there we can let ourselves in with a hidden key. Walking from downtown to the house will take about 45 minutes, says google maps.
In my head, I am already a world adventurer, and a walk of less than an hour is no big deal. Sure we've already been waking a lot, and are laden with two rather heavy non-rolling bags each, but it should be fine. So we continue to walk down by the water along what appears to be a main driving road.
And we walk.
And walk.
And walk.
It is about 5-10 minutes away from our destination that I realize I was horribly wrong. That I've been driving the 5 minutes to work for 3 years instead of walking. That I spend most of my time playing video games or watching Netflix. That pretty much the only exercise I get has been rushing to TPS auditions at Seattle Center and haven't done any long, sustained walking since college.
But still feeling like I should be better, I push on.
THIS WAS THE WRONG CHOICE.
We finally get to the house, and no one is home. I promptly threw all my things down and collapsed on the bed. My muscles screamed at me. I could tell even then I had done something wrong, and had wiped myself out for the next day before it was even nighttime.
I took a shower in the hopes some hot water would help my muscles, but to no avail. There was nothing left to do but sleep, hope the next day I'd be able to move at all, and get used to the fact that if you want hot water in Iceland...you better like the smell of sulfur.
To be continued...
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